Late night talk
by Tempted Sacrifice
Summary: He sat still, trying desperately to hold in the roar of joy at her confession; wanting nothing more than claim what is rightfully his. His grip tightened slightly on her hand, lacing his fingers with hers as he tried to come up with some kind of answer that wouldn't be unintelligible caveman-talk. *Companion-piece to "The Yule Ball", though it can be read independently.


**A/N: **A companion-piece to my one-shot "The Yule Ball", though it can be read independently.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Late night talk**

**xxx**

It was not every day that Bill Weasley found himself seated in the kitchen of his childhood home; nursing hot chocolate in one hand as the other leafed through an old copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He had only meant to stop by in passing, but his mother had persuaded him to stay the night, though he had tried to argue against her, saying that none would be too pleased with his behaviour as it was so close to the full-moon.

Even though he did not suffer through monthly transformations, he got quite the temper around the time; prone to yell at anyone in the near vicinity. And even at the moment, he felt the itch; the roaring monster that came with nothing but trouble.

An owl hooted in the distance, and he glanced through the small window in the kitchen at the moon, reflecting against the small pond in the garden and casting soft light over the shrubbery. He sighed wistfully at the sight, remembering his many late-night adventures of his Hogwarts years', and involuntarily, the sight of periwinkle robes and sorrowful eyes glancing at him shyly.

He shook his head roughly, dragging a hand through his long hair as to rid himself of the image, but it was stuck; his mind conjuring up a petite body, just rounded curves and –

His thoughts were interrupted by another presence; the musky scent of parchment and chocolate telling him exactly who it was.

'Bill!' a soft noise of surprise escaped her pink lips as she turned to face him. The t-shirt clung to her body in a way that made him glad that he was seated; lower region hidden from view.

'Hermione.' he smiled at her, eyes raking over her body as she grabbed herself a glass of water and seated herself by the table, close enough so that he caught a whiff of her scent every time she moved. He found himself envying the water droplets that ran down her chin and beneath the fabric of her shirt, moments later frowning as he imagined what else could trail over the naked skin of the woman in front of him.

'Is something the matter?' she asked, leaning forward slightly to get a closer look at him. 'Is it the moon?'

It had nothing to do with the bloody moon, but he nodded anyways, wondering how she could be so daft so as not to notice the attention he was lavishing on her. 'Is it hard?'

He almost choked on his own spit, blushing hotly as she looked at him with curiosity, and it took a while for his brain to make the connection that she was not talking of his –

'Oh, it is not as difficult as other's may have at this time of the month.' he managed to say, though still coughing and one hand over his face to cover his still flaming cheeks.

She looked at him, brown eyes searching for something; she even opened her mouth a few times but decided not to say anything. He was curious as to what went through her mind at the moment, but thought better than to ask and instead ventured on safer grounds.

'How are things between you and Ron?' he asked casually, though he noticed a strain to his voice.

'Oh.' she exhaled softly, looking uncertain and clutching the glass in her hand more tightly. 'I – we – well, I don't know, to be honest.'

The raging monster within him purred contentedly at the answer, but Bill tamped it down with great difficulty.

'How come?'

Hermione looked even more uncertain, avoiding at all costs to look at him; pink dusting her cheeks as her finger traced the rim of her glass. 'You are his brother, I couldn't possibly –' she trailed off, and Bill reached across the table to place his hand upon her, enjoying the touch a bit too much as she softly caressed the small hand – it fit perfectly into his own.

'It's okay, you can talk to me.' he said encouragingly, trying not to feel too guilty about the fact that half of the reason he asked was because he wanted to find an opening where he could slip in and replace his little brother's spot. _No, can't think like that!_

'Well, lately there isn't a spark between us.' she started off, now looking decidedly embarrassed. 'The kiss during the Battle is the most intimate we have been, and now it only feels like we are together because everyone else _expect _us to be!

'I don't love him, not like that. He is a brother to me, yet I can't help but feel that he wants _more_, more than I can give.' she concluded softly, daring a glance at him, as if to discern his reaction.

He sat still, trying desperately to hold in the roar of joy at her confession; wanting nothing more than claim what is rightfully _his_. His grip tightened slightly on her hand, lacing his fingers with hers as he tried to come up with some kind of answer that wouldn't be unintelligible caveman-talk.

'You should talk to him.' _And let me have you instead._

'Yes, but you know his temper.' she laughed quietly and he joined in; relishing in the melody of her laughter, a soothing balm to his frazzled nerves. 'But you are right. It's not right to lead him on, make him believe that I feel more for him than I do.'

She smiled brightly at him, showing off pearly-teeth and gave his hand a squeeze. He almost wanted to drag her up to his old room, and have his wicked way –

'Thank you Bill, for listening.'

He managed a smile, and stood up, ruffling her hair; soft curls running like silk between his fingers.

'Anytime, dear.'

And he walked away, leaving her; stunned and blushing for a long while.

**xxx**

The next couple of weeks were a tense affair at the Burrow. Bill, who had decided to stick around a while longer, saw the frosty glares his little brother sent Hermione, and the way she kept giving him apologetic glances, and without needing an explanation, he knew that the two of them were no longer seeing each other. Despite the fact that he felt sorry that two close friends were drifting apart, his insides were squirming with joy; hoping that now that Hermione was free, he could finally make his move.

But his chance did not come; more days passed and he could only watch her from afar as she chatted with Ginny, her laughter ringing through the room, head thrown back and curls almost touching the floor as she was curled on the sofa, a thick book opened on her lap, but otherwise untouched.

He could not hold back the hunger that came with watching her; the thought of making her _his_ bouncing through his mind more frequently until others started to pick up on these signs. Harry was the only one who dared to approach him.

'Eh – Bill, could I have a word please?' he asked, slightly intimidated by the height of the eldest Weasley brother, but Bill smiled easily and followed the black-haired man through the backdoor and to the garden.

A gnome passed them, his stumps for legs carrying him quickly away from the two wizard's. Neither of them even bothered to pay the creature any attention.

'Many of us have noticed that you seem to be quite – quite transfixed by Hermione.' Harry started with a nervous twitch, scratching his hair as he tried to formulate some kind of remark that conveyed the message he wanted to get through. 'And as you know, Hermione is like a sister to me, and with the way Ron is acting I don't think any more drama would be good for her.'

Bill looked at the young man and tried not to feel too irritated with the way he spoke, knowing he only did it out of concern for his friend, but still – to insinuate that he would cause Hermione extra-harm was just –

Having noticed the murderous intent lying beneath the calm surface, Harry hurriedly assured that he did not think badly of Bill, before hurrying back into the house. He chuckled, as he too ventured inside again.

And there she sat, head still thrown back, a content smile on her face and he could not take it, could not wait any longer._ She was his, dammit!_

'Hermione, a moment?' he asked, trying not to show irritation when she only glanced his way, before slowly putting away the book to follow him. She had to struggle to keep up with his long strides up the rickety stairs, and before she knew it, she had been pushed through a door and was swaying on the spot, trying to regain her balance as Bill warded the door.

'Bill, what are you –?'

He embraced her tightly, breathing in the scent of parchment and chocolate. Her muffled words tingled against his chest, and he relished in the fact that she was quite a bit smaller than him, that he could embrace her so completely as if she were one with him.

'I have waited so long.' he growled softly, teeth nipping at her collar-bone. 'So long.'

To get his meaning across, he ground his pelvis against her; a soft sound escaped her mouth and he pushed further, they stumbled until they fell on his bed. Her hair fanned across the pillow, mouth shaped into a small o, and his breathing grew ragged as he leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, breaths mingling together.

'Hermione.' he placed a soft kiss on her lips, and repeated her name; with every sound there was a kiss, light as a butterfly, he peppered her with them until she was rosy and glassy-eyed; pink tongue darting out to wet her parted lips.

'You are everything I want. Please, say that you want me too.' he pleaded, crushing their bodies together, wanting to be as near as possible. She looked confused, apprehensive, and dare he say it, hopeful.

The silence hung heavy in the room, and his patience was wearing thin; he needed an answer, _now_.

'Do you know when I first saw you for more than just Ron's best friend, when I knew you would one day be mine?' he asked; cursing himself for talking, wanting to hear her answer but at the same time, afraid of what she would say. 'The Yule Ball.' he heard her sharp intake of breath, but continued. 'You were so pretty, yet I could still see the intelligent witch underneath, shining through eyes older than your age. You spoke to me that night, with your eyes. And I knew that I had to have you, in every sense possible.'

He kissed her again, more urgent; hungrier, hands travelling with light touches over her body, careful not to go too far. He knew her inexperience, knew that she needed time; _but dammit, did she have to be so soft and supple?_

A hand snaked in between their bodies, and he shifted his weight, looking at her with an unreadable look.

'I – yes. Yes, Bill.' she whispered, her eyes so earnest, so lovely that he swooped in and kissed her again, a slow kiss that took his breath away, and he rose; a grin stretching over the span of his face and he was laughing, relieved that she had said _yes,_ and she joined in, and there was such a sense of euphoric dizziness that his arms trembled and head swam with images of the two of them, doing _everything together._

'What about Ron?' she asked tentatively, and he growled, eyes blazing and mouth twisting before leaning down to kiss her again.

'To hell with Ron!'

_You are mine now. _


End file.
